Colors: Olitz One-Shots
by labellebeaucoup
Summary: This is a collection of mostly AU Olitz one-shots.
1. Stay Together

**A/N –** **This is a collection of Olitz one-shots.** _ **Stay Together**_ **is the intellectual property of Noah Cyrus, Emily Warren, and Britt Burton.** _ **Bad At Love**_ **is the intellectual property of Halsey, Eric Frederic, Justin Tranter, and Rog** **é** **t Chahayed.**

 _ **Stay Together**_

" _Fuck."_ Fitz turned at the feminine voice coming from the beautiful woman standing a few feet away. He watched as she glared down at her phone. She bent, retrieving the slim device from the concrete at her feet. He inched closer, noticing that the glass screen was completely shattered.

"Tough luck," he commented. She shrugged, eyeing the cracks in the screen before sliding the device into her back pocket. She flung the cigarette she had dangling in her fingers to the ground, stomping on it before picking it up and putting it in the nearby trashcan.

"I don't know why I bother with those damn things. I don't smoke," she stated.

"Oh?" he chuckled, pointedly eyeing the trashcan she was still loitering beside.

"That? It only happens when I drink. You'd think my friends would have learned to keep the damn things away from me by now," she laughed. He liked her laugh - it fit her. Taking a leap of faith, he decided to introduce himself.

"I'm Fitz."

"Olivia." Her name suited her - soft, feminine, and musical. So caught up in her name and the melodious sound of her voice, he barely caught her next comment. "So what brings you to Columbus?"

"Is it that obvious I'm not from around here?" She nodded and he raised a brow. He had thought he was blending in.

"I'm not from here, either, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone from Ohio wearing a Wolverines shirt." He glanced down at the shirt he was wearing and sure enough he was greeted by the blue and yellow of the University of Michigan. He hadn't wanted to come on this little road trip with his friends, so he hadn't been too careful about his wardrobe choice. He had grabbed the first clean shirt he had come across and as a University of Michigan alumni, he had plenty shirts touting the fact in his closet. No wonder he had been getting dirty looks all night. They were barely a block from Ohio University and no doubt many students were in the bar.

"Where are you from?"

"Providence."

"What brings a Rhode Island girl to Ohio?"

"Work." He nodded - his work sent him all over the country, too. It wasn't always fun. He liked seeing new places, but sometimes he'd rather spend the time at home. It was hard to settle when he was rarely there.

"What brings you to Ohio, Mr. Michigan?"

"My friends dragged me along for some concert." He rolled his eyes. Matt and Dane had been adamant that he come to this concert. He wasn't a huge fan of music to begin with and definitely not some pop singer that he had never heard of before. Of course, his friends had given him hell over that one. They had concluded that he must be leaving under a rock; claiming that this singer happened to be one of the biggest stars on the scene for quite some time now despite her alternative take on pop music.

"You don't seem too pleased about that."

"It's some alternative pop singer I've never even heard of." She nodded to his statement, a smirk playing across her face. He tried not to chuckle - apparently even she must know who this singer was. "Are you going to the concert too?"

"It's a big reason why I'm here." She didn't elaborate, staring out at the busy street. Cars were still speeding past. Columbus wasn't all that big - it felt more like a town than a city. He liked that.

"Where are your friends?" She asked after a few minutes, causing him to jump slightly. They had been standing in complete silence.

"They met a couple girls and headed back to the apartment. Jake and I, the other guy they dragged along, decided to give them a few hours before we headed back." She nodded, understanding.

"Let's go get something to drink." He nodded, following her into the crowded bar. He hung back a little as she made her way through the crowd to the bar. He wondered how long she had been in the city - various college students were moving out of the way for her, falling to the sides and letting her past. A few here and there stopped her, snapping pictures with her. He could tell she had a great personality - making friends must be easy for her.

"Here you go." She handed him a too-full glass of beer. He sipped at the amber colored liquid - the bartender hadn't filled his glass that full earlier. It had to have been because of Olivia.

"I fucking hate this song," she groaned, making a face in the direction of the DJ as "Happy" blared through the speakers. He nodded - he didn't like the song either. He laughed when she sat her beer down, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting loud enough for the DJ to hear her: "Bro, your shit is boring!"

"Yeah! Play "Bad At Love!"" She laughed out loud when someone behind her yelled at the DJ. Shaking her head, she turned to look at Fitz.

"I'm going to go grab my friend. Grab yours and we'll get out of here." She didn't give him a chance to respond before sauntering off toward the little raised platform that served as a stage. He narrowed his eyes - she was fun, but all over the place. And he didn't understand why the request from the tall, buff younger man behind them had made her decide to leave. Downing the rest of his beer, he headed toward the back of the bar to retrieve Jake. If he was lucky, his friend would still be where he had left him. Jake hadn't seemed too thrilled about the bar scene. Sure enough, he was still sitting at the table, a barely touched glass in front of him.

"Hey, let's get out of here."

"I thought we were giving Matt and Dane a few hours?" Jake yelled over the music, an inquisitive look crossing his face.

"I met a girl - she wants us to hang out some with her and her friend. Doesn't seem to enjoy this bar, either though." Jake nodded, standing and following Fitz to the entrance. Olivia hadn't mentioned where she would meet them at, but Fitz assumed she would eventually make her way to the green door and, sure enough, after a few minutes, she showed up with a tall brunette. They exited the crowded bar together and she headed toward a silver Mercedes parked on the curb. She leaned across the passenger window, talking with the driver before announcing to the group that it was the Uber she had requested. She, her friend, and Fitz piled into the back as Jake took the passenger seat. Inside the car, she introduced her friend, Danielle, to the other two.

"What was up with that song request back there?" Fitz questioned as she gave the driver a location, requesting that he take the long way.

"Huh?" She turned in her seat to face him, looking into his blue eyes.

"Bad Love?"

"It's just a song - by that pop singer you aren't too happy about hearing." She winked and he shrugged. So this singer they were seeing tomorrow really was popular. She seemed to be thinking for a moment or two before she asked the driver for the aux cord. Snapping the cord in place in her phone, she scrolled for a moment or two before music filled the car.

" _Got a boy back home in Michigan_

 _And it tastes like Jack when I'm kissing him_

 _So I told him that I never really liked his friends_

 _Now he's gone and he's calling me a bitch again_

 _It's a guy that lives in the garden states_

 _And he told me that we'd make it 'til we graduate_

 _So I told him that the music would be worth the wait_

 _But he wants me in the kitchen with a dinner plate"_

Fitz tilted his head, listening to the music and wondering why Olivia was giving him such a quizzical look. He wrote it off quickly - she loved music, had said so earlier, and was probably watching him for his reaction to the singer that he had so quickly written off. The voice was oddly familiar, but he couldn't place it and didn't know why. This was his first time ever listening to this particular artist. He was a classic rock guy.

" _I believe, I believe, I believe, I believe that we're meant to be_

 _But jealousy, jealousy, jealousy, jealousy get the best of me_

 _Look, I don't mean to frustrate, but I_

 _Always make the same mistakes, yeah_

 _Always make the same mistakes, 'cause_

 _I'm bad at love_

 _But you can't blame me for tryin'_

 _You know I'd be lyin' sayin'_

 _You were the one_

 _That could finally fix me_

 _Lookin' at my history_

 _I'm bad at love"_

He nodded in Olivia's direction - hoping that she would take it to mean that he liked the song. It was different, but the voice was pleasing. If only he could place it. Part of him wondered if she was trying to tell him something with the song lyrics - maybe that she wasn't ready for a relationship? He was either, honestly. He liked her, but neither were from the area and long distance relationships never worked.

" _Got a girl with California eyes_

 _And I thought that she could really be the one this time_

 _But I never got the chance to make her mine_

 _Because she fell in love with little thin white lines_

 _London girl with an attitude_

 _We never told no one, but we look so cute_

 _Both got way better things to do_

 _But I always think about it when I'm riding through"_

They listened in silence as the chorus repeated one more time before the song ended. Olivia was quick to grab her phone, pressing pause as Fitz watched. Her screen was completely shattered. There wasn't any saving it at all. She unplugged the aux cord and slid her phone back into the pocket of her jean shorts.

"Still not very good?" she giggled, looking at him.

"It's okay. Not really my thing." He watched as she smirked, nodding her head and looking past him out of the window. They were stopped at a red light. A gaggle of girls were standing on the sidewalk, eyeing the vehicle - listening to the song that had just ended in the car, the now familiar beat drifting in through the open windows. Olivia unbuckled her seatbelt, leaning over Fitz and sticking her head out of the window.

"Nice song," she shouted, waving at the girls. Fitz watched as grins broke out across the girls' faces and they shouted greetings. He shook his head as the vehicle started moving once more. Olivia sure had a lot of confidence. He liked it. He glanced at the clock as they pulled up at some park. 4:30. It was more than past the couple hours they had agreed to give their friends. Exiting the car, Danielle pulled Jake to one side of the large park with her as Olivia and Fitz walked toward the other end.

"Have you ever watched the sun rise?" Olivia questioned, rubbing her arms. The thin tank she was wearing didn't do much to ward off the chill of the late summer night.

"It's been a while," Fitz answered, deciding to make his move and slowly wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He tried to keep the goofy grin off his face when she leaned into his body heat.

"It's one of my favorite things to do."

"When do you sleep?" he wondered, looking up at the sky.

"Sleep is for the weak." He laughed - he knew without a doubt that she really did believe that. She seemed like the kind of person who cared more about making memories and having fun. He liked that about her.

"So Miss Never Sleeps, what do you do in your freetime?"

"I write." Like everything else that night, she didn't elaborate and he didn't ask. If she wanted to tell him, she would. The strolled through the park, talking, until the first rays of sunlight began tinting the sky. He smiled at her as he caught her staring into his eyes. She reached a hand up, brushing his curly hair out from his forehead.

"I should probably head back to my hotel before the rest of my crew begins to freak the fuck out," she laughed. He nodded, sad that the night was ending as they headed in the direction of Jake and Danielle.

"Maybe we'll see each other at the concert tonight," he suggested.

"Maybe."

* * *

"Damn, we're late," Matt complained, tapping his foot impatiently as the security guard eyed their tickets.

"Chill," Fitz commented, "I don't know why you're so eager to be here." He tried to act like he wasn't just as eager to be entering the arena - he was hoping to see Olivia again. The prospect looked grim, it seemed like the whole city was packed into the tiny arena, but he wasn't letting that deter him.

"She's my favorite singer," Matt answered, "And she's hot."

Fitz rolled his eyes as the security guard led them down the aisles to their seats. Matt had insisted on buying front row tickets. He swore he had to be as close to the stage as possible. As they filed down the row toward their seats, Fitz's head whipped toward the stage when he heard an all too familiar voice.

"So, this is a new song that I wrote early this morning. I hope you guys like it." He couldn't believe his eyes as he fumbled for his seat. Standing there on stage, her hands wrapped around the microphone in front of her, was Olivia. Her was messy - chaotic, intentional messy that he thought made her look even more beautiful, and she still wore the same outfit she had been wearing that morning complete with a pair of black converse. He watched her intently as she began singing:

" _I drank straight to my head_

 _I went outside to smoke a cigarette_

 _And I shattered my phone on the cement_

 _But I don't give a fuck_

 _Now I'm not making sense_

 _I'm laughing at a joke that I don't get_

 _I'm acting like these strangers are my friends_

 _But I don't give a fuck"_

He smiled to himself as he listened. The song was so very... _her_. Everything she had told him the previous night was starting to make sense. The concert was a huge reason why she was in Columbus...of course it was - she was _the_ reason for the concert. She hadn't liked "Happy" and that made sense too. Her music was best described as alternative - of course she wouldn't like a typical pop song. And she wrote. Her own songs. That alone impressed him.

" _Yelling at the DJ, "Bro, your shit is boring"_

 _Doing things that I will not regret until the morning_

 _I'mma make it rain down, another round is on me_

 _I'm just here for the fun and I don't care about the money_

 _Hey, hey_

 _Nothing lasts forever_

 _But wouldn't it be nice to stay together for the night?_

 _We can do whatever_

 _As long as we're together then we're gonna be alright_

 _Don't leave, just wait_

 _You can tell your friends that you're staying out late_

 _Singing, oh oh oh_

 _Nothing lasts forever_

 _But wouldn't it be nice to stay together for the night?"_

He found himself smiling and nodding along to the song. All the college kids at the bar taking pictures with her last night - well, that made sense too. He happened to catch Matt's stare out of the corner of his eye. Matt was dancing along as expected, but it was obvious that he hadn't expected Fitz to dance along.

"Glad to see you're enjoying yourself," he grinned.

And Fitz was.

" _Alright, alright, finish your G &T_

 _The Uber's here, so now it's time to leave_

 _Hey driver, could you pass the AUX to me?_

 _Go ahead and turn it up_

 _Head out of the window_

 _You could call me shameless_

 _Waving to my people now I'm acting like I'm famous_

 _Tell 'em, "Take the long way"_

 _We could see the sunrise_

 _Damn, you look so pretty when the sunlight hits your blue eyes"_

He smile widened until his cheeks were hurting. She was singing about their night. It was an amazing feeling knowing that their night had been special enough for her to write an entire song about it. His friends, and the rest of the audience, began clapping and staring at him. He narrowed his eyes in confusion until he noticed that Olivia had sauntered to the front of the stage, microphone in one hand, as she held the other out to him. Matt shoved his back, propelling him forward from his seat to take her hand and clamber onto the stage. He gave up on hiding the happy look on his face as she stared into his eyes, singing the rest of her song.

" _Nothing lasts forever_

 _But wouldn't it be nice to stay together for the night?_

 _We can do whatever_

 _As long as we're together then we're gonna be alright_

 _Don't leave, just wait_

 _You can tell your friends that you're staying out late_

 _Singing oh oh oh_

 _Nothing lasts forever_

 _But wouldn't it be nice to stay together for the night?_

 _For the night, oh yeah_

 _I drank straight to my head_

 _I went outside to smoke a cigarette_

 _And I shattered my phone on the cement_

 _But I don't give a fuck_

 _Nothing lasts forever_

 _But wouldn't it be nice to stay together for the night?_

 _We can do whatever_

 _As long as we're together then we're gonna be alright_

 _Don't leave, just wait_

 _You can tell your friends that you're staying out late_

 _Singing oh oh oh_

 _Nothing lasts forever_

 _But wouldn't it be nice to stay together for the night?"_

He laughed as she finished, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing her lips on his. She tasted like sweat and whiskey. Like everything else he had learned about her, it fit. He chuckled more when she leaned toward him, whispering in his ear, "One glass of whiskey before a show is my tradition."

"Everyone, meet Fitz. He's with me." His face turned red as she introduced him to the whole arena and he wondered what her intentions were. At this moment, he was willing for just about anything as long as she was involved.


	2. How You Get The Girl

_**How You Get the Girl**_

" _And then you say_

 _I want you for worse or for better_

 _I would wait forever and ever_

 _Broke your heart, I'll put it back together_

 _I would wait forever and ever" ~ Taylor Swift "How You Get the Girl"_

Lightning flashed across the darkened sky, illuminating the tops of the waving trees. Rain was blowing in sideways, hitting the pavement with sickening speed. The tall man stood outside the large mansion, soaked daisies in his hand. He nervously fiddled with the broken zipper of the grey track jacket he was wearing - a last minute attempt to protect the blue shirt with its bold, emblazoned yellow 'M' that he had paired with stonewashed jeans. He didn't need flashy. She didn't _like_ flashy.

Shaking, his stomach lurched as he moved his hand toward the doorbell. He had thought the hard part would be getting past security at the gates, but no. They all remembered him. They all liked him. Jabbing the doorbell, he almost wished he hadn't sounded the obnoxious, high-pitched sound. Facing her terrified him. How was he supposed to get past what he had done - what he had _said_ , the last time they had seen one another?

His eyes stung as rainwater dripped down his forehead and into the bright, blue orbs. Pushing his wet hair back on his forehead, he inhaled sharply when the door swung open. Anyone else would have assumed that she would have someone to open her door for her, but he knew better. That's why he wasn't surprised to find himself looking down on the petite woman, her dark eyes sparkling with rage.

"Are you insane?" The first words she had said to him in six months and they were a harsh, accusatory demand. So she hadn't forgiven him. He tried not to focus on how perfectly _imperfect_ she looked. Her high-waisted jean shorts showcased her toned legs and the loose white tee with Medusa's image blazoned across left her stomach bare, the diamond piercing glittering in the torchlight. Her shoulder-length hair was messy, but that wasn't unusual. She didn't take the time to style her hair. That wasn't her. Everything was as it should be, except for the red of her eyes. Had she been crying because of him?

He didn't know what to say to her. He had had a whole speech planned, but that was before she had opened the door. Seeing her left him speechless and in awe of the fact that she had ever been part of his life. Dropping his head, he tried to imagine where they had gone wrong. It had been two years since he had met her in a small, college bar in Columbus. Two years since she had yanked him on stage with her and proclaimed to the crowd that he was with _her._

Those two years seemed like nothing compared to the eternity of the six months he had spent without her. Looking back on that argument now, it all seemed so _stupid._ He hadn't been ready to step into her world. He liked their arrangement - secret rendezvouses when she wasn't busy on a tour or recording. There hadn't been much media coverage after that night she had pulled him on stage. Everyone had chalked it up to her pulling a random fan up there with her and he had been happy to let them think that. She had too, at first. Then she had decided that she wanted to go public. That was the farthest thing from what he wanted.

Did he want to be with her? Hell yes. But he didn't want his every move splashed across some random, cheap newsstand tabloid. He was a private person. Sometimes, painfully private.

"I needed to talk to you." He finally found his voice, his teeth clanking against one another as the heavy rain continued to pelt him with its cold droplets. Sighing, she stood to the side, gesturing for him to enter the foyer. He started to apologise for dripping water on the black marble, but she shook her head.

"There's a robe in the bathroom. You still know the way?" Of course he still knew the way. What kind of question was that? Squaring his shoulders, he kicked his shoes off and shuffled down the hall to the right, trying to avoid dripping water - especially when the black marble gave way to plush, white carpet. He always felt so small in her home. He had grown up with everything he had needed or wanted, but his parents were still considered upper middle class at best. He wasn't used to the glamour and wealth he experienced every time he stepped into Olivia's home. Shaking his head, he refused to go down that rabbit hole again.

Entering her spacious den, he wrinkled his nose at the smell wafting toward him. He wasn't surprised to find Olivia sitting cross-legged in a large, overstuffed black leather armchair, an open notebook on the glass table before her, her guitar laying across her lap and a blunt in her hand. She didn't smoke often, but it was a common sight when she was working on new material. Unlike some celebrities, though, she never flaunted the fact that she smoked.

"All dry?" she asked, blowing smoke and reaching for the pen on her notebook, quickly scrawling a line.

"All dry," he stuffed his hands in the pockets of the warm, fuzzy robe and perched precariously on the edge of the leather sofa, "Working on a new song?"

"Yeah," she chewed her lip, a nervous habit she had when she was considering sharing something new, "What do you think?"

She strummed a few notes on her guitar, taking deep breaths. Just as he thought that she was only going to play him the notes, she began singing:

" _I was as pure as a river_

 _But now I think I'm possessed_

 _You put a fever inside me_

 _And I've been cold since you left_

 _I've got a boyfriend now and he's made of gold_

 _And you've got your own mistakes in a bed at home_

 _I'm hoping you could save me now,_

 _but you break and fold_

 _You've got a fire inside,_

 _but your heart's so cold."_

A wistful look crossed her face as her hands fell from the guitar and she took a long drag of the blunt that she still held in her hands. He tried to focus on that minuscule detail - only she could make that look so easy, so natural. His heart was tearing at the words she had sang. She liked to hide truths in her songs under layers of metaphor - sometimes, she didn't even bother hiding the truth. From the moment she had sang that she's got a boyfriend now, it was the only line he had heard. Did she, really? His confusion addled brain had him accepting the blunt she held toward him, taking a large drag before he remembered that he had never smoked before - not even a cigarette. He promptly began coughing, relieved when Olivia took the blunt from him and placed it in the ashtray on the table. That wasn't his smoothest move.

"You have a boyfriend?"

"The line fit with the lyrics. Do you want to hear the rest of the song?"

He nodded. He knew from experience that the only way his active mind would manage to find some calm in this situation was to hear everything she had written. It was impossible to pretend to know what she was talking about without hearing the whole thing. He watched as she began strumming her guitar strings once more, picking up where she had left:

" _Cause I've done some things that I can't speak_

 _And I've tried to wash you away,_

 _but you just won't leave_

 _So won't you take a breath and dive in deep?_

 _Cause I came here so you'd come for me_

 _I'm begging you to keep on haunting_

 _I'm begging you to keep on haunting me_

 _I'm begging you to keep on haunting_

 _I know you're gonna keep on haunting me_

 _We walk as tall as the skyline_

 _And we have roots like the trees_

 _But then your eyes had to wander_

 _Cause they weren't looking at me_

 _You weren't looking for me_

 _Cause I've done some things that I can't speak_

 _And I've tried to wash you away,_

 _but you just won't leave_

 _So won't you take a breath and dive in deep?_

 _Cause I came here so you'd come for me."_

He listened as she repeated the chorus a few more times, imploring him to never stop 'haunting' her. He had shaken his head at her line about his eyes wandering - that definitely was not what had happened. That wasn't why he had left. _Fuck._ Is that what she thought?

He had to fight the urge to wipe away her tears as she finished playing, leaning her guitar against her chair and reaching forward to close her notepad. She grasped the neck of the wine bottle sitting on the table, raising the whole bottle to her lips and drinking deeply. He ran his tongue over his lips, trying to find the words to say. He was at a loss. Taking the wine bottle from her hands, he swallowed a mouthful of the tart liquid before returning it to the table. He was going to need the liquid courage.

"My eyes never wandered," he whispered, staring at his hands.

"Not every song I write is about you, Fitz." She curled her legs under her body, her eyes trained on the steady beat of rain against the wall of windows across the room, overlooking the calm waters of the Atlantic. He sighed.

"But this one is." Prying was his only option. She had shared that song for a reason. It was her way of opening up. When she couldn't find the words to say, she always trusted her music to do the talking for her. Now, he had to _make_ her talk.

"This one is," she agreed. Her voice was small. Weak. Broken. Had he done that?

"My eyes have only ever seen you, Liv," he continued, scooting forward in his seat until he was practically hanging off the edge, balancing on his legs, "I said some pretty stupid things."

He chuckled as that got her attention. Slowly, she turned her head to face his, tears still streaking down her face and causing a familiar pang in his chest. She swiped at her eyes, grabbing the bottle of wine and gulping the bittersweet liquid before nursing the glass bottle in the crook of her arm.

"Don't remind me."

"No," he shook his head, "We have to talk about it, Liv. I wasn't ready to be like you. I wasn't ready to have people following me around asking me what I'm wearing or analysing every friend I meet…"

"I know. You don't have to remind me. We've already had this conversation. It's kind of why we broke up." She tilted her head, rolling her eyes.

"I didn't want that. I still don't want that," he watched as she pushed herself into a sitting position in her chair, her lips moving wordlessly, " _But_ , I want you. I want to be with you."

"I can't keep lying about you."

"I know. That's why I'm willing to compromise. Let's tell the world."

"Because that would be such an interesting announcement," she rolled her eyes again, "Hey guys: So, um, I kind of had this boyfriend here, but he didn't want you guys to know and well, we're not together anymore, but now he wants you to know that we were a thing."

"Yeah, not the announcement I was picturing," he rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head at her cheek.

"What kind of announcement were you imagining then?" She put the now empty wine bottle back on the glass table, swinging her legs around and placing her feet on the floor - a task that involved her scooting as far forward as Fitz was just for her feet to reach.

"Something along the lines of: I'm dating this amazingly stupid man who has a lot of grovelling to do, but I think it'll work out in the end. I think he's the one, because he sure as hell knows that I'm the one."

"Fitz," her breath caught in her throat and her eyes glistened with tears once more. He frowned. He hated seeing her cry and it seemed like that was all he was making her do lately. Standing from his seat, he moved toward the chair, crouching in front of her. He waited for her nod before he moved his thumbs to her cheeks, swiping at her tears. She fell forward into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing the emotion to pour out of her. He rubbed her back as she cried, happy to just _be_ there for her.

"I'd understand if you kick me out and say you never want to see me again," he offered as her crying finally subsided. Placing her hands on his shoulders and using them to push herself back, she laughed at his statement.

"No. I don't want to kick you out."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to be sincere about going public," he nodded in agreement with what she was saying, ready to open his mouth and profess that he had been genuine in his declaration, "And…I want you to carry me to my room and fuck me until your name is the only thing I can remember."

He groaned at her words, his jeans suddenly too tight. Moving his lips to hers, he crashed his mouth against hers, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist before he attempted to stand. He navigated the long, winding halls with ease. Within minutes, they had entered the large shrine to rock that she called her bedroom. He always picked on her about the decor - for a pop singer, she sure did pay a hell of an homage to the rock genre.

He fumbled with the buttons on her shorts, trying to ignore the brooding look in Jim Morrison's eyes. Only Olivia would have a large poster of The Doors hanging over her bed. It had always been slightly unnerving to him. Focusing on the woman before him, he finally managed to undo the buttons of her shorts and shove the jean material, along with the skimpy thong she had been wearing, to the floor. She gasped as he moved a hand to her now exposed sex, slowly teasing her.

"You don't waste any time," she moaned, gripping the edges of her t-shirt in her hands and pulling the material from her body. He smirked at the realisation that this whole time, she hadn't been wearing a bra.

"Do you know how long it's been?" he questioned, moving his hands to her waist and backing her toward her bed. She collapsed on the back comforter, resting on her elbows as she watched him quickly divest himself of the robe he had been wearing, her pupils growing as she realised that he, too, had kept a few secrets during their conversation earlier. He hadn't been wearing a thing under the fluffy white material.

"6 months. 2 days. 12 hours and 10 seconds. Give or take a few hours." He stopped at the foot of the bed, raising a brow at her and causing her to giggle. "Okay. I may have made up the rest of that, but six months is accurate."

His response was joining her on the bed, pulling her body to his and covering her mouth with his own. Her back arched at his touch, chipped maroon nails scrapping at his shoulders. If the long, sharp nails caused him pain, he didn't complain. His hands and mouth worked together to tease, taste, and twist her dark peaks until they stood proudly for him - her cries of pleasure filling the room. It had been too long.

Flipping onto his back, he pulled her on top of him, placing his hands on her waist to help her into position. Slowly, his body thrust up as he pulled her down firmly. Olivia cried out at the feel of him stretching her - completing her. Their position didn't allow for the greatest range of motion, but they made the most of what they had. She leaned forward, her hands on either side of his head. With each stroke, she pushed back hard against him.

Fitz closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to focus. The sight of her body moving above his accompanied with the delicious feel of being inside her tight, warm body was almost too much. He wanted more. He needed more.

Sliding his hands to her waist, he stilled her movements. The room fell quiet save for their harsh, fast pants.

"Move forward a bit." His command had her scrambling forward, on her knees, desire pounding through her body. He didn't take charge very often and when he did, she found it undeniably hot. With her face low, her cheek brushing the silky comforter, she cried out as he reentered her - the new angle sending a shockwave of sensation through her body. She clutched at the sheets as she cried his name:

"Oh Fitz!"

Fitz lost her after the cry of his name - her shouts slowly become more and more unintelligible. His mind, on the other hand, was trying to name every song on her last album. In order. Anything to help him maintain some form of control and keep his thoughts from the fiery heat that was consuming his body. It had been too long since he had had her.

Gasps and grunts filled the room as the couple raced toward completion. Olivia felt as though the pleasure was splintering her body into thousands of pieces as Fitz pounded into her again and again. Like a firework that burned brilliantly, but only for a short period of time, their love exploded in a plethora of colours and sparks as they cried one another's names.

Resting against the pillows after, he rubbed her back, urging his breathing to return to normal. A peaceful smile covered Olivia's face as she reached for her phone on the nightstand.

"What are you doing?" Fitz questioned as she opened the camera holding the phone above them. She made sure to only snap their faces, but that was enough to clue anyone in on what the two had been doing. They were obviously laying against pillows. Her hair was a chaotic mess and his wasn't much better. Both their faces were flushed and she had the lazy, content look of someone who had just been well and thoroughly fucked. As he watched her type some message he didn't bother to read below the photo, he couldn't help but think that her new Instagram post was definitely the _best_ , most _Olivia_ way to introduce them to the world.


	3. The Greatest

_**A/N - While this collection is just a set of one-shots for me, with the occasional tie-ins, anyone who happens to be an author themselves (or is thinking of writing) is welcome to take any of these chapters that inspires them or they think could work as a longer piece, and turn it into something else.**_

 _ **The Greatest**_

" _And the ball goes up_

 _And the ball comes down_

 _Swings his bat all the way around_

 _The world's so still he can hear the sound_

 _The baseball falls to the ground"_

 _~ Kenny Rogers_

"Run!" The crowd screamed, pointing toward the first base, the sound of the ball having connected with the aluminium bat still echoing in their ears. The seven-year old grinned from ear to ear, his blue eyes sparkling with pride at the knowledge that _he_ had hit the ball. He was slow to catch on to the fact that the crowd was shouting at him - urging him forward. Finally, realisation flashed through his eyes and he took off down the first baseline, kicking up dust behind him. The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief when his fit touched the base, barely beating the first baseman.

He straightened his blue and white jersey, turning his toothy grin, minus his front two teeth, toward the lovely woman sitting on the bench. She had her braided hair pulled into a ponytail, a scorebook laying across her laps and her hands joined together in thunderous applause. Her blue and white jersey proclaimed her the "mom of 18". As the little boy caught her attention, she gave him a thumbs-up, her smile brightening. She made a few marks in the book on her lap and turned her gaze back toward home plate where another little boy in a blue and white jersey had just squared up, his bat on his shoulder.

Number 18 allowed bent, placing his hands on his knees and watching his teammate swing and miss the ball. Strike one. He groaned as the umpire made the call and looked toward the coach standing to his side, his bald head glistening red in the sunlight and his jersey stretched tight across his stomach.

"As soon as he throws that pitch, run for second, Joel," The older man advised, keeping his eyes locked on the pitcher's mound. As the ball left the pitcher's hand, Joel took off at a run, urging his legs to move faster than they had before. He could hear the crowd chanting his name and sense the other team scrambling to figure out what was happening. By the time they realised just what he was doing, he had already tagged second and was halfway to third.

"Joel!" The tall, dark-haired man standing by third, shouting his name and clapping his hands, urged the young boy to run even faster. His lungs burning, he hopped onto third seconds before the baseball connected with the baseman's glove. The opposing team's fans groaned in frustration, but Joel didn't pay them any attention. He only cared about the man standing by the base. A grin covered his face as the man, dressed in a jersey like his only this one said "dad of 18" on the back, patted the boy's back.

"Way to go, son."

"Thanks dad. Did mom see?"

"Your mom saw," the man chuckled, tossing his hand in the air and waving at the beautiful woman on the bench. Joel watched as his mom lifted her hand, the diamond ring on her finger sparkling in the sunlight, and waved at him and his dad. She was beaming.

He turned his attention back to the game. Their last inning. If he could make it home, then they would win. He bent, hands on his knees and watched the pitcher. It was a 1-2 count - anything could happen. He was hoping for the pitcher, or the catcher, to make a mistake, though. He waited for his dad to say something, to hold him back. Instead, the man asked:

"Do you think you can do it?"

He gave a nod, adjusting his cap and watched as the pitcher released the ball. It made a perfect arc over home plate - and right past the catcher. Joel's dad nodded and without a second thought, Joel took off down the baseline. The catcher had his back to him, but that wouldn't last for long. Not with the other fans yelling, trying to warn their team that they were seconds from losing. The yelling didn't help, though, Joel made it across home before the catcher had fully turned.

His teammates surrounded him, clapping his back and chanting his name. For the moment, he was their hero. When he finally broke away from his teammates, he found his mom and dad standing by the team bench. His little sister, Adriel, was cradled in his mom's arms. Her chubby cheeks were flushed and sticky from a lollipop his grandma had given her earlier. Her head rested against their mother's shoulders, her darks eyes closed and a thumb in her mouth. Everyone liked to say that he looked like their dad and that Adriel was their mom's mini-me.

"Way to go, kid," his mom grinned, using her free hand to tousle his hair.

"Good game, Fitz!" Joel turned to find the coach of the other team shaking his father's hand.

"Josh! How's it been, man?" The blond guy smiled, laugh lines forming around his eyes.

"Same old same old," he shrugged, "When did you start coaching little league?"

"My son, Joel, plays," Fitz nodded toward the young boy standing by his mother, "This is my wife, Olivia, and my daughter, Adriel."

Josh shook Olivia's hand before turning his attention to the 'tall-for-his-age' boy standing beside her. "You played one heck of a game, kid! I'd say you're even better than your old man was."

Joel puffed his chest out in pride, a grin forming at the man's words. As good as his dad? That was all he could ever hope for. His dad's baseball photos and trophies graced a large portion of the display bookcase that they had in their den.

"What have you been up to, man?" Josh asked Fitz, crossing his arms and waiting for the other guy to respond.

"I'm the government teacher at Western," he referenced the high school the two had graduated from together, "What about you?"

"Foreman at the Ford plant. I can't believe we haven't ran into each other before now."

"Crazy isn't it?" Joel watched as his mom inched forward, clearing her throat and giving his dad a look that clearly screamed, "wrap this up or we're going to be late!"

"It was good seeing you. We actually need to get to my parents' for a cookout. We should catch up sometime." They stood there for another minute or two so that Josh and Fitz could exchange numbers before the family of four trudged toward their grey SUV.

/

"I was starting to think you weren't going to make it!" Edith Grant stood just at five feet, but her tiny frame was no match for the loud, full of life personality. Her brown hair was starting to fade to grey, but her sparkling blue eyes more than made up for the dulling hair.

"We would have been on time, but _someone_ likes to talk," Olivia rolled her eyes, moving slowly as she helped Adriel make tiny, slow steps over the patio stone. The little tot held tightly to her mother's hand, her dark eyes settling on her grandmother.

"That almost reminds me of my husband," Edith teased, moving toward her daughter-in-law and swinging her granddaughter into her arms. Rubbing noses with the little girl, she exclaimed, "And how has my precious princess been?"

"Cranky. She fell asleep at the field," Olivia answered, turning and shielding her eyes from the sun as she searched behind her for her son. Joel came running across the patio in a pair of swimming trunks, Fitz had taken him inside to change, and skidded to a halt in front of his grandma.

"Gran, can I swim?"

"Jerry, how much longer until the food is done?" Edith called over her shoulder. The older man by the grill, a kiss the cook apron covering his clothes, swivelled around to look at his family. The crows' feet around his eyes, courtesy of years of laughter - Edith always had accused him of being the world's biggest prankster, depended with his smile.

"He has time. Let the boy swim!" Joel didn't wait to hear what his grandmother had to say before speeding off toward the pool, barely stopping to throw on a life jacket at his mother's insistence.

"He reminds me so much of Fitz," Edith chuckled, making faces at the little girl she held in her arms.

"I wish you could have come to the game. He played hard." Olivia followed Edith to the patio chairs, taking a seat at the glass table. Edith balanced Adriel on her lap, letting the little girl play with the string of pearls around her neck.

"I do, too, but Andrew and his fiancee flew in this morning." Olivia smiled knowingly at the eye roll that Edith ended her sentence with. Fitz's younger brother was the nerdy, quiet boy that spent way too much time with his head buried in his books. Everyone had been surprised when he had come home a couple years ago with a girlfriend and shocked even further when he had later announced that he was engaged. The speculation behind his engagement didn't last long after the family had officially met the woman. Melody Roberts was the stereotypical definition of a gold digger. From the way she dressed - outdated skirt/jacket combinations with heels for every occasion, even the ones that _didn't_ require such outfits, to the sky-high hair and fake southern charm, she oozed bad vibes.

"How has that been?"

"Well, Jerry repeated multiple times that he needs to see a lawyer because he doesn't think Fitz and Andrew should split the company - he doesn't want that woman anywhere near his company." Jerry had started a law firm that had quickly spiralled into one of the largest, most trusted firms in the country back in his twenties and he had made millions from it. The company had been how Olivia and Fitz had met - she had been Jerry's right hand, the youngest law protege in the state. The two had hit it off instantly, and Jerry and Edith's blessing had been an added bonus.

"That's sad."

"But necessary." The women turned their attention to the men at the grill when they heard the two talking, debating, loudly, what the best way to grill a hamburger was. Olivia rolled her eyes at her husband - always the competitive type.

"Your son," she giggled, shaking her head, "Where are the two lovebirds, anyway?"

"Inside. The sun is just terrible for Miss Mellie's complexion." Edith wrinkled her nose, helping Adriel slip out of her lap. The little girl was eager to examine the caterpillar inching along the warm stone.

"Are you making fun of your future daughter-in-law again?" Fitz winked, sliding into an empty seat by Olivia.

"Me? Never," Edith shrugged innocently, "At least one of my sons had the decency to grace us with a respectable daughter-in-law."

"Me?" Olivia feigned ignorance, "What isn't there to love?"

"Your morning breath, for one," Fitz mumbled, rubbing his shoulder when she punched him.

"I suppose if my morning breath is that bad, you'll have to do without your wakeup kiss." Olivia shrugged, bending to retrieve her daughter as she started to crawl past her parents - heading straight for the pool and her older brother.

"Now that's just evil," Fitz protested, turning his attention to his daughter, "We can go swimming after we eat."

As if on cue, Jerry turned toward the table with a large plate piled high with food and asked, in his loud, booming voice:

"Everyone ready to eat?"

/

"Your mom may just murder your brother's fiancee before the wedding even takes place," Olivia stated, moving a stuffed animal from the sofa before settling into the lush fabric, cuddling up to her husband.

"If she does, I doubt anyone will ever find the body," Fitz smirked, flipping the page of the book he held in his hand. Olivia read the title, wrinkling her nose. The whole family practically lived on the baseball field during the season - did Fitz really need to read about the sport as well?

"I was thinking that we could take Joel to see the Red Sox play for his birthday." She changed the topic, bringing up her plans for her little boy's birthday.

"What about Adriel?"

"I'm sure your mom and dad or mine will watch her. We can let Joel invite his friends."

"Okay. He'll like that."

"We need to do something for Adriel's birthday." He finally shut his book, laying it on the coffee table and sliding his glasses from his eyes, placing them on top of the book. He had resisted the glasses at first, but last summer he had finally caved. He was a reader and that had become a nearly impossible hobby without corrective lenses.

"We could always do something at mom and dad's. She loves the pool."

"I don't want to put anymore stress on your parents." She shook her head at the idea. Adriel _did_ love the pool, but Edith seemed to have her hands full with Andrew and Mellie.

"I think mom would welcome it."

"Do you think Andrew will go through with the wedding?" Olivia asked, tilting her head back to look at Fitz.

"I don't know. He's naive. He doesn't see her for who she really is."

"He thinks he's in love, too."

"Ew. Love," Fitz shuddered, winking as he lowered his mouth to Olivia's, placing a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. She laughed at his comment - an attempt to mimic their son's feelings when a little girl his age had mentioned that he liked her. Sometimes, being parents provided an endless reservoir of entertainment.

"Your mom wants me to go dress shopping with them tomorrow," Olivia groaned, resting her head against the back of the sofa.

"Mom needs someone there who is in her corner," Fitz shrugged.

"I'm not looking forward to it."

"If anything happens, my bet is on you and my mom," Fitz winked, standing and holding a hand out toward his wife, "The kids are asleep. What do you say _we_ have some fun?"

"You are a dork," she giggled, allowing him to help her stand and lead her up the stairs to their room. Life in the Grant family sure did come with its set of challenges, but she wouldn't trade it for the world.


	4. Braver Than You

_**A/N:**_ _ **This is a rework of an original, short piece that I wrote for an English course in uni. Our only guidelines were that our pieces had to be historical fiction. I recently came across this again in one of my binders and decided to rework it for Olitz**_ _._

 _Braver Than Me_

In the summer of 1953, the whole town was gossiping. Not that that was unusual for a small town like Harrison, but the gossip this time was so abnormal that the old ladies who sat outside the local Piggly Wiggly, sharing stories, couldn't recall hearing it in their long, seventy years. They were stopping everyone on their way in to shop and telling them the news. That's how I found out late Saturday evening that my brother had finally done the unthinkable.

"Kathleen, dear, I'm so sorry!" Mrs. Hemsway had a way of making every sentence she uttered sound like some great tragedy had recently occurred. She would wring her gnarled hands and dab at her grey eyes with an old handkerchief as she spoke.

"Excuse me?" I softened my voice, trying not to sound cross, or, God forbid, hurried. Southern ladies were supposed to have manners, not that anyone in this town ever accused me of such a terrible crime.

"Why Fitzgerald ran off with that girl and married her last week." The old woman liked to talk in riddles and I felt a familiar pounding begin in my head. Now, I was starting to miss the University of Pennsylvania. It had taken me away from away from this old lady's insanity for a few years.

"I'm sure Fitz knows what he's doing." I shrugged and tried to shoulder my way past the gaggle of women into the store. The night air was thick with humidity and my dark hair was clinging to the nape of my neck.

"Then you don't know, Olivia."

I rolled my eyes and turned to the ladies, sitting in their long, grey skirts despite the heat, and crossed my arms under my chest, levelling them with my blue gaze.

"What's so wrong with this lady?" I finally gave in, asking them to continue with their gossip as I waited for them to fill me in, stomping my foot against the dirty concrete and watching as small dust clouds took to the air.

"Kathleen, she's coloured." Mrs. Hemsway barely whispered the word as if the word itself were a disease. I felt my cheeks heat up as they flushed a bright red. Biting my lip, I nodded my head and turned on my heel, entering the small grocery store. I'd forgotten how cruel the south could be during my time in the north.

My shopping was done in a daze. I barely felt the coldness of the butter and eggs as I hurried through the store and checkout. People stared at me as I walked the long distance to my family's old, blue Victorian home. Many began to open their mouths as I hurried by them, eager, no doubt, to ask questions about my brother. I wasn't in the mood.

Mr. Tyler honked his horn as I stepped onto the old wooden porch of my house. H was proud of his new mint green automobile, one of the few in our town to have gone out and bought one. I waved, thinking of how odd the horn sounded, and watched as he continued driving down the old dirt road.

I heard voices coming from the family room when I entered the warm home. making the groceries to the kitchen, I sat them on the counter and slid my sandals off. I padded down the hallway to the family room. My parents were sitting by one another on the sofa, my mother had her apron draped over her white dress and my father was still in his suit and tie, having just gotten hime from work.

Across the room, my older brother, Fitz, sat beside a woman who looked to be my age. Fitz's cheeks were flushed a crimson colour and his eyes pupils were dilated - nearly encompassing his blue eyes as he clutched the woman beside him. I noticed that my mother was staring at their intertwined hands. My brother's large, pale hand made a loud contrast to the woman's tiny, brown one.

Fitz gave me a small smile, his eyes softening when he looked toward me, as I sat in the chair beside the blood red settee he occupied. I reached a hand out, placing it on his shoulder and squeezing. My parents flinched at my gesture. Their mouths were in a tight line, nearly disappearing as they watched Fitz's every move.

"How could you do this to us?" My father demanded, leaning forward in his seat.

"I fell in love. It's not my fault this whole country has hypocritical views. Love thy neighbour. All men are created equal. If all men are created equal, why do we put so much importance on our skin colour?" Fitz's eyes flashed as he sat up, shrugging my hand off his shoulder.

"This marriage isn't legal." It was like my dad to ignore what either one of us had to say. With Fitz, he made a point of arguing that my brother was too hotheaded, too young to know much of anything. With me…Women's rights may have been given decades earlier, but that didn't matter much in the never changing south. Men still ruled the household.

Fitz looked like he was ready to lunge at our parents and begin one of his famous tantrums when I held my hand in front of his body and shook my head.

"Don't do this, Fitz." I softened my facial expression, a contradiction to the words I had just uttered, when I looked at him. I was on his side and I wanted him to know that.

"We're staying together." Fitz slammed his fist against the small coffee table in front of the settee before standing and stomping out of the room. His wife stayed behind, her head bowed as she stared down at the wooden floor.

"Kathleen, kitchen. Now." My mother's face was red as she waited for me to leave the room, following behind me.

In the kitchen, I lifted myself onto the cool, marble countertop. The green stone was cold against my legs as I swung them back and forth, staring at the floor in an effort to avoid my mother's gaze.

"You have to talk some sense into that brother of yours. He cannot continue this despicable charade. Do you know how embarrassing this is?" She was pulling at her blonde hair as she walked around the kitchen.

"It's his life." I shrugged. It wasn't often that I refused to do what my parents asked of me, but this was one time I didn't feel like I could blindly follow their wishes.

"He's a disgrace to this family! Have you heard what this town is saying?" My mother was always worried about our family's image. My father, a judge and avid front pew sitter, taught that it was wrong and shallow to worry about your outward importance. How hypocritical of all the so called good Christians in this town.

"I heard. Mrs. Hemsway stopped me on my way to the store. Thanks for warning me about this whole thing, by the way." I lifted my head from the floor and looked directly in my mother's eyes, which had widened until they were nearly all you could see in her face.

"What did that woman say?" My mom didn't like Mrs. Hemsway, not that anyone did, but she was weary of the old woman's gossip.

"She gave me her condolences for Fitz's behaviour." I spat the words and tilted my head at my mother's reaction. She threw her hands in the air and began breathing heavily.

"It's worse than I thought!"

I hopped from the counter, my feet hitting the floor and carrying me out of the room, away from the craziness. I found Fitz on the porch swing, enjoying the warm afternoon as he spoke with his new wife.

"Thank you." The woman had a confident, musical voice as she looked up at me closing the screen door and swatting at a firefly.

"For?" My voice rose slightly as I sat in the white wicker chair beside the swing, lifting my knees to my chin.

"Sticking up for us in there. I wasn't expecting that."

"I told you, Liv: Kathleen is a Yank," Fitz interjected, laughing and sticking his tongue out at me.

"I'm not our parents, Fitz. I'm not going to go to church every Sunday, listen to dad preach about how we should all love each other, etc., and then turn around and disregard that because someone is a different race than me. I'm only doing this, Fitz, because _this_ is the Christian thing to do," I laid my head on my knees, watching Olivia nod her head in agreement, "Not to be cynical, but you two know it isn't going to easy for you in this town, right?"

"I grew up here with you, Leenie. I know this town is full of people who will smile to our faces, hold our hands in church, then burn a cross in our front yard," Fitz sneered, resting his arms around Olivia's shoulders.

"Lovely image there, Fitz," I mumbled, shaking my head at my brother. I knew he was going to stick this relationship out and God help this who stood in his way.

"You've said it yourself." Fitz was indignant.

"I'm not scolding you." I took a deep breath, the smell of honeysuckle and rain in the air. The sound of flies buzzing around filled my ears along with the crickets playing their evening tune somewhere in the yard.

"Do you think we're doing the wrong thing?" Olivia asked me, gazing out into the darkening streets.

"No. The rest of the world does, but I think you tow are doing the right thing. You're upholding your beliefs. You're fighting for love. That's something." I couldn't keep the admiration out of my voice as I looked down at my bare feet. My big toenail had somehow chipped on something.

"You're not that bad of a sister, you know that?" Fitz grinned me.

"You aren't a bad brother. I admire you, Fitz. You are braver than me."


End file.
